


Sand and Ash

by Cigarettes_and_Valentines



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1960s, Aziraphale is slightly oblivious, Fluff, Food, French Revolution, M/M, Modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cigarettes_and_Valentines/pseuds/Cigarettes_and_Valentines
Summary: Aziraphale begins to wonder why Crowley never seems to eat.





	Sand and Ash

It didn’t take look for Aziraphale to notice that Crowley didn’t seem to eat. He’d turned down his offer of oysters in Rome, and while he’d been entertained by the idea of a live crow in a pie at one of Henry VIII’s feasts, he’d still smiled and turned down any offers. Before the arrangement, he’d thought that maybe this was just too much of a transgression for the demon. An angel and demon could hardly go out to dinner together, their respective head offices would be livid. And besides, its wasn’t like they really needed food anyways. They were ethereal beings who just so happened to take on human forms. There was no human need for energy or nutrients, so technically speaking they could go their entire lives without tasting a morsel of food. 

But that, in Aziraphale’s opinion, that was just too boring. How could he not walk past the smell of freshly baked bread and not be tempted? He was only - well, not quite human, but close enough. He loved food. He loved the smells, the textures, the tastes, and every other aspect of food possible. There really was nothing more intrinsically human than a hearty warm meal that filled the heart with comfort and joy. And Aziraphale loved every single part of it. 

He only really noticed that Crowley didn’t seem to eat during the French Revolution. After Crowley had so graciously saved him from a rather sticky situation which could have easily ended in discorporation, he’d even offered to take him out for those crepes he’d wanted so badly. Dressed in his warden’s uniform, they headed to a quaint little creperie tucked away in the winding roads and alleyways of Paris. Aziraphale was surprised and relieved to see that the shop was still standing despite the whole revolution and class war going on. 

“I guess the French wouldn’t even forsake their crepes in the middle of a revolution.” Crowley commented, almost reading Aziraphale’s mind. 

They sat in the small shop, taking a table positioned next to the window which overlooked a quiet street.   
“So,” Crowley began, fingers playing with the corner of his menu. “These crepes are good enough to risk discorporation?”

“Yes, well, or so I’ve heard.” Aziraphale replied as he looked down the menu. He couldn’t decide, they all sounded so delicious. The ones with lemon curd and sugared lemons sounded absolutely divine, but he really couldn’t pass up on the ones with berries and fresh cream at this time of year. The berries would be so ripe and succulent, just perfect. He peered over his menu to find his compatriot gazing at the menu with faint disinterest. 

“Ready to order?” Crowley laid his menu to one side. 

“Not quite. I just can’t seem to make up my mind. They all sound so good, don’t they?”

“Yeah, sure great.” Crowley looked around the shop before flagging down a waiter and ordering just a black coffee. When he was prompted by the waiter, Aziraphale eventually decided on the lemon curd crepes. He could already smell those sugared lemons and he really couldn’t refuse. 

Once the waiter had left, Aziraphale turned back to Crowley and raised an eyebrow. 

“Just a black coffee?”

“Not a big fan of sweets.” Crowley shrugged.

“Really? I would have thought that demons would have been all in on the whole gluttony and excess of all that sugar.” Aziraphale mused. 

“I think we both know I’m not really like other demons.” Crowley responded with a smile. Their orders arrived, and Aziraphale ate his crepes while Crowley sipped his coffee. They talked at length about what they’d each respectively been up to for the past century. Aziraphale had spent the century bringing social reforms across industrializing towns, while Crowley had been busy spreading illicit drugs and venereal diseases across the writers and poets of the romantic era. Seeing as they’d been so busy, they’d had a lot to catch up on, whether it was the possibility that the economist Adam Smith had been having some conversations with some demons or just what on Earth was going on with Lord Byron. They had a great afternoon, and throughout it Aziraphale didn’t stop to question Crowley’s insistence to stick to drinking coffee, not even giving in to Aziraphale’s attempts to get him to even taste his crepes. In all honesty, Aziraphale didn’t really give it much thought. Demons, he figured, just like everyone else, had taste preferences, and Crowley just wasn’t fond of sweets. 

Aziraphale didn’t think about Crowley’s relationship with food again until way into the 1960’s. Crowley had thankfully gotten rid of that horrendous hairstyle but had only replaced it with a slightly better one which made him look like he was trying to become the fifth member of the Beatles. It hadn’t been that long since he’d reluctantly given over that dreaded flask of holy water while absolutely knowing what Crowley was most likely going to use it for. It gave him peace of mind to occasionally stop by the chic apartment in London that Crowley had just gotten and make sure that Crowley was okay. He always was, often simply annoyed that Aziraphale had interrupted his session of verbally abusing his plants for something so trivial as making sure that he was alive. He was also, thankfully, often willing to entertain Aziraphale’s ideas of trying a new restaurant, even though he never seemed to eat very much.   
It was a regular evening when Aziraphale approached Crowley’s apartment. He used a very small angelic miracle to unlock Crowley’s door ( “Of course it wasn’t for a selfish reason.” He told himself. He just wanted to make sure that his friend was okay. What could be more selfless than that?) and slipped in. This time, for once Crowley was not berating his hydrangeas. Instead, he seemed to be rearranging his ever increasing record collection. When he noticed Aziraphale behind him, he paused. 

“You don’t have to keep on checking up on me, you know. I’m perfectly fine.” Crowley did not look up from his Rolling Stones album.

“I know, I know. I just worry.”

“So, where are headed tonight? The Ritz? Somewhere in SoHo? Or did you want to make a quick trip over to Paris? I heard that crepe place we went to a while back is still open.”

“Actually, I was thinking of Shepard’s Bush tonight.” Aziraphale replied. 

“Shepard’s Bush?” Crowley put down his records. “I didn’t think you went to that part of London.” The working class burough was nothing like the high-end Michelin Star restaurants Aziraphale usually frequented.

“Oh yes. There’s a delightful little Caribbean restaurant there. Very much a hole in the wall. Not too pretty, but absolutely delicious food. You’ll love it.”

“Sounds good to me, Angel.” Crowley abandoned his half-alphabetized record shelf and they headed to the restaurant. Crowley took Aziraphale in his classic Bentley, which he’d just fitted with a brand new stereo system. He had used a little demonic magic on it so that it would change songs by itself. He was rather proud of that one. 

Following Aziraphale’s directions, Crowley brought them to a small, slightly dingy looking restaurant. The seats were cheap plastic and the tables didn’t quite match. Crowley could somewhat fit in, dressed in his fairly neutral all-black outfit, but Aziraphale stuck out like a sore thumb dressed in his usual three piece suit amongst all the other diners who were dressed much more casually. They had their order taken by a moody teenager who brought them glasses of tap water before they’d even ordered drinks. The restaurant was filled with loud laughter, Caribbean music and delicious smells. Aziraphale couldn’t wait to tuck in. 

“So how have you been doing?” Aziraphale asked. “Well?”

“Sort of. Head office has been keeping me ridiculously busy lately. You know, so many new rockstars, so little time to corrupt them all.”

“That’s what you’ve been up to? Leading rockstars into lives of sin? My head office has me stuck doing paperwork.” Aziraphale replied, slightly disgruntled. They chatted until the food arrived. The surly teenager returned quickly with plates of sumptuous jerk chicken and goat curry. It smelled spicy and warm and so far away from his usual upscale haunts. Aziraphale dug in, but watched while Crowley simply sipped on his water.

“Not eating?” Aziraphale asked. 

“No, uh I’m not really that hungry.” It was difficult to read Crowley’s expression behind those dark sunglasses he always wore. Crowley then smiled and took a few bites of goat curry, which was enough to satisfy Aziraphale for now. He would complain that Crowley wasn’t taking care of himself, but as a demon he didn’t really have a need to eat. Now that they’d started going out to dinner more often, Aziraphale had gotten used to Crowley’s severely lacking appetite. Regardless of where they went, Crowley didn’t really seem to eat much, or be particularly interested in food. He did, however always entertain Aziraphale’s desire to go out to restaurants so frequently that some of them in the area had started to recognize them by face. He really did wish that Crowley would be more enthusiastic about food, but he guessed that he couldn’t really make Crowley like food. He was just happy enough that he could spend time with him, regardless of if Crowley was eating or not. 

Aziraphale didn’t actually ask Crowley why he didn’t eat until much later. It was after they had just stopped the apocalypse, and the two were enjoying high tea at the Ritz. Well, perhaps it was more appropriate to say that Aziraphale was enjoying high tea at the Ritz while Crowley watched him eat, champagne in hand. 

“Can I tempt to try some?” Aziraphale waved a finger sandwich. “It’s smoked salmon.” He offered. Crowley shook his head and took another sip of his champagne. 

“Crowley dear,” Aziraphale began.

“Yes?” Crowley swirled the champagne in the glass, watching the bubbles twirl around in the glass.  
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’ve noticed over the past few centuries. You never really eat, don’t you?”

“I never really noticed.” Crowley shrugged with an attempt at nonchalance. 

“I’ve been taking you out to dinner for centuries now, I think I would recognize the fact that you don’t ever seem to eat a proper meal.”

“Well, you know I don’t really get hungry. Don’t really need to eat it so I don’t really see why I should bother.” Crowley replied. 

“But not even to enjoy the flavour? The sandwiches are quite delicious.” Aziraphale took another bite of the sandwich he was holding.

“No thanks.” Crowley pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. “I'm, uh, not a big fan of fish.” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. He had spent centuries with his compatriot, and one thing that he had learned was that for a demon, Crowley actually was quite a terrible liar. He was no master of deception, especially when he was attempting to lie to Aziraphale. He got all nervous, and then he was easier to read than a book.

“Is that all, Crowley?” Aziraphale prodded. “Because it seems like you say that a lot. So either you’re an extremely picky eater, or you’re not telling me the whole truth.” Crowley sighed and shuffled forward in his seat, but remained silent.

“Come on Crowley. I really want to be able to completely enjoy eating with you. And that means that you should enjoy it too. Just tell me what the matter is.” Crowley stopped, setting down his glass of champagne and giving Aziraphale his full attention. 

“Okay. But you have to promise that you won’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?”

“Just promise, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Well, the truth is that I don’t really like eating.” Crowley said. 

“What do you mean? You don’t like eating at all?” Aziraphale asked, surprised. “But why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”

"I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s some kind of demon thing, you know, losing your ability to taste properly when you fall.But in all honesty, when it comes to food, everything feels like sand and tastes like ash, and there's no enjoyment in anything. Trust me when I say you never want to feel like that." Crowley replied, and even though he still wore his dark sunglasses, Aziraphale could still see the emotions in his snake-like eyes behind them. Aziraphale frowned. He’d never even thought about whether demons could taste or not. It was short-sighted of him, but he had simply assumed that demons were just like angels, including in their ability to taste. Crowley had suffered all of these years tasting horrible plain ash all for Aziraphale’s benefit. 

“But why didn’t you say something? If you told me that you didn’t like eating, then I would have stopped asking you out to meals.”

“You see that’s the thing.” Crowley said with a small smile. “I never wanted you to stop. You would always get so happy and excited over every single place. And besides, I got to spend a lot of time with you. And that, my angel, is worth eating any amount of ash.” He reached across the table and took Aziraphale’s hand.

“So all this time, you were pretending to like food, just so that you could spend time with me?” Aziraphale asked, unable to fight the blush rising to his cheeks. 

“A little bit.” Crowley replied playfully. “I might not be able to taste, but I love watching you eat. Honestly, I could sit for hours on end and watch you.”

“Well, I don’t know. I just don’t really think its that fair. You should enjoy it too.”

“I enjoy spending time with you.” Crowley replied. He raised his glass of champagne, “And besides, there’s always alcohol.” Aziraphale chuckled as Crowley drained his glass. 

“So you’ll just sit there and eat nothing every time we go out to dinner? It really doesn’t sound fair.”

“I’ll have your company and that’s nourishment enough.” Crowley smirked, before slipping his free hand under the table and onto Aziraphale’s thigh. “And besides, maybe you can give me a taste of something else afterwards.” Aziraphale grinned. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent arrangement."


End file.
